Back in the Bunker
by SerenaM95
Summary: (Set after 9x23) Dean is feeling sorry for himself and Cas unintentionally gives him the pick me up he needed. (sorry about all the typos:/)


**A/N: Hi guys! So I haven't written in a billion years and for that I apologise, but without further adieu I give you this sort of fluffy Destiel-y fic. I hope you enjoy. Thanks :D **

**(If I can bug you for a review or contsructive criticism I'd be most grateful- also I know that the dialogue is a _little_ OOC, Sorry)**

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Of all times Cas might wander by sheer coincidence into Dean's bedroom in the bunker, it had to be that moment Dean was most vulnerable, exposed like a stripped nerve. Needless to say, it was the one moment he would have murdered to keep private. But of course, if a Winchester wanted it than all the possible forces of nature in this universe and the next one would come in to play simply for the cause of inhibiting them from having what it was they desired.

It was about three weeks since the whole Metatron-Crowley-Oops-Dean-Is-A-Demon incident, and mercifully everyone had left Dean mostly alone to readjust and cool off. Heaven knows he needed the time, and he appreciated Sam's concern in calling Cas but he appreciated _more _Cas's sense to leave him alone.

The past hour and a half or so, Dean was in the bathroom with the shower on full blast and full heat. he barely noticed the stinging torrents of water jetting against his skin and he sat slumped against the wall waiting for the force of the shower to wash away all his guilt, tension, depression and disappointment. It hadn't worked. All that had really happened was that he was effectively squeaky clean and a lot more wet. Wiping the steam from the mirror, he watched his reflection as he blinked his eyes from his regular green to black as obsidian and back again. Five minutes onwards and he acknowledged the practise was making him feel worse.

Feeling sorry for himself, Dean wrapped a warm towel around his waist and traipsed back to his room, not bothering to lock it knowing full well nobody would bother him until he wanted bothering.

Cas wandered in some ten or so minutes later, stopping to take in Dean's half-nakedness face down on his bed. Momentarily, he panicked and thought he would surely need to breathe but recollected himself quickly. Quiet as he always was, Dean had heard him or sensed him somehow and after a slight pause he turned to face his best friend. Cas kindly ignored the sodden pillowcase and Dean's spiky lashes.

Chest clenching, Dean waited expectantly for Cas to flinch, knowing that Angels and Demons could see each other's true forms. Dean knew from experience that the face of a demon was hideous. Castiel didn't flinch. His throat clenched in fiercely controlled glee. "I-" Dean began, realising as soon as he said the first word the following sentence would sound ridiculous. He pressed on anyway, "I can see you now."

While at one point seeing what he could see now would cause his eyes to literally melt from his skull, Dean could hardly blink from awe at Castiel's form. He had several faces and yet at the same they were all one. Ethereal in his beauty and soothingly familiar, he could finally _see_ Cas.

"And you look as you have always looked. You look like Dean." Dean turned his face to the ground and hastily rubbed at his face, suddenly hyper-aware that tear tracks were drying on his cheeks.

"It doesn't matter to Sam that you are a demon, Dean. He wants to see you."

"And what bout you Cas? Now that we're biological enemies on a polarised scale?"

"It will never matter to me what you are." "Why? I'm a demon. I'm the freaking New-Age Cain for Christ's sake!"

"Get dressed, Dean. Come see Sam." Cas urged, tagging on a stricken "_please_" for food measure.

"Maybe in another week or two. Now if you're done. please, leave."

Dean maintained a piercing war of eye contact with Castiel, tempted to do the black-eyes trick but refrained. For the time being, he liked being seen as relatively normal despite his predicament.

Not in the slightest deterred, Cas crossed deeper into Dean's room towards his chest of drawers and tossed him some underwear and a pair of jeans with the least blood on them. "I'm not looking." Cas said, gazing intently at the brickwork of the wall. It took all of three minutes before Dean got moving but in that time Cas resolutely stayed and faced the wall.

"Pass a shirt." Dean said gruffly, and Cas handed him his black tee, the one he secretly thought Dean looked the best in. He handed it to him, being as subtly as he could in peeking at Dean's well toned chest.

As if knowing he was being monitored, Dean took his time in stretching his arms over his head and lowering the shirt over his head.

"You're a bad liar, Cas." Dean teased with a smirk, settling the hem of his shirt over the waistband of his jeans.

"I didn't say anything." He retorted indignantly.

"Like you have to." Dean said, and sauntered up to him, locking gazes with the Angel.

Cas was hypnotised, completely unable to move, breathe, or break the connection between their eyes.

"Well," Cas gulped, "If I'm a bad liar, Dean, then so are you."

Dean grinned and repressed a laugh which still came out as a quiet chuckle. "Don't I know it." He stooped his head and quicker than Cas could've believed it true,  
pressed his lips against Cas's.

"Come on. Sammy wants to see me." Dean said, already halfway to the door and leaving Cas where he stood, dazed. Dean shook his head.

Somehow he'd forgotten, how much he _loved_ having Castiel around.


End file.
